


Hot as a Fever/Rattle of Bones

by Ironriots



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avocados at Law, Blow Jobs, College, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironriots/pseuds/Ironriots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a long night. The spring semester begins to stretch into a long, blisteringly hot summer and the A/C in the dorm has been busted for two weeks. They’ve been sleeping above their sheets, wide awake and sweating in that particular sort of torment that sets in between the months of May and August.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot as a Fever/Rattle of Bones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dalidarling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalidarling/gifts).



> Titled and themed loosely after Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon
> 
> For my best friend who asked me for Matt's first blowjob. It's only 2 months late lmao!! This is the first fic I've published in years so comments and feedback are always nice.
> 
> I'm [ironriots](http://ironriots.tumblr.com) on tumblr and I also draw so pls check me out there if you'd like.

It’s been a long night. The spring semester begins to stretch into a long, blisteringly hot summer and the A/C in the dorm has been busted for two weeks. They’ve been sleeping above their sheets, wide awake and sweating in that particular sort of torment that sets in between the months of May and August.

It’s driving him fucking wild. Something about the temperature puts Matt on edge in more ways than one, and Foggy is _right fucking there all the time_. It’s harder and harder to chase off the thought. The next time he hits on him, Matt might actually call that bluff.

One night they’re lying on the floor, seeking that extra two degrees of coolness that seeps its way into the wood when the sun goes down. There’s a bottle of scotch, two glasses dripping condensation, the ice long since melted. 

Foggy’s breath hitches, which Matt has come to understand preludes words. He fights the overwhelming heat, the sound of 40 electric fans in the building, the drone of crickets to listen.

“Have you got class tomorrow?” He asks blearily.

“Nah, it’s Friday right?” Matt pushes his glasses off his face, grimacing as sweat slides down the bridge of his nose.

“It’s Thursday, buddy. Friday is tomorrow.”

Matt moans in frustration. Foggy’s heartbeat jumps, briefly. It may have been a volume thing.

“Don’t get too excited.” Foggy says, but the lilt of sarcasm is thin. It’s innuendo, not hyperbole. Matt swallows.

“Well you know I was kind of hoping to lay here half-naked on the floor for the next twelve hours.” He says, pushing the implication. 

Foggy quits breathing for a second. Half concerned, Matt rolls over in his direction.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. You know, just entertaining the image.” Foggy drawls, trying to play it cool.

“It sounds sexier than it actually would be, I’m sure.”

“I wouldn’t know. We’d have to test the theory.”

“Um.” Matt pauses, inhaling sharply. He licks his lips, tasting salt. “Alright.”

Foggy rolls over. “Was…was that an _invitation_?”

He nearly bites it back, but instead opts for what he hopes is an affirmative shrug. His pulse hammers in his ears, so loud that if he hadn’t been focusing so intently on Foggy that he may not have heard him practically leap up from the floor. Matt sits up stiffly while Foggy slides closer to him.  
“Matt are you fucking with me right now, be honest.” Foggy says carefully, his voice only cracking a little bit.

“No. In which case you were uh, fucking with me in which case we can forget it.”

“No no no I wasn’t I was…being serious. I didn’t expect you to go for it though.” They’re both sitting up now, directly across from each other.

“Okay.” Matt wipes his palms on his thighs. “Uh, yeah then.”

Foggy leans into him, hesitating.

“Matt I swear to god if you’re messi—“ Matt closes the gap, pressing his mouth with gentle hesitation against Foggy’s. They stay like that a second before Foggy’s lips move, pulling Matt’s between his. They pull back.

“Again?”

“Yeah.” This time they come together for a moment longer, mouths moving in tandem. Foggy’s goatee isn’t as abrasive against his face as Matt had convinced himself it was, and his mouth burns like a brand. Foggy sucks Matt’s lower lip between his and bites, very softly.

Matt makes a noise, and Foggy’s hands are on his knees. Even in the ambient heat of the room they sear through the fabric of his pants, invisible heat signatures in the perfect shape of his palms, fingers splayed up Matt’s thighs. 

They part and meet again, like a tide, their mouths open against each other. Foggy’s hands on his knees push gently, guiding him to slide back a foot or so until his shoulders lean back against the foot of his bed, kissing all the while.

Once Matt leans back against the bed, Foggy’s hands slide very slowly upwards, like he’s still waiting for Matt to tap out at any second. He kisses along Matt’s jaw, leaning in along the line of his throat and Matt just cranes his head back, sighing when he realized he had been holding his breath the whole time. 

Foggy slides his hands under the hem of Matt’s shirt, pushing it up over his abdomen before pausing, making a “tsk” noise against his collarbone.

“What?” Matt asks.

“I guess I owe Chris ten bucks.”

“Why?”

“I was not entirely sure these abs were real, dude.” He laughs a little, fingers tracing the cut lines of Matt’s stomach. Matt makes a groan of exasperation that ends with a gasp when Foggy continues feeling up his chest, thumb brushing over a nipple. 

His back arches and Foggy tugs at his shirt, prompting Matt to reach down and pull it over his head. Foggy kisses down the exposed skin, his fingertips tucking into the waistband of Matt’s pants. Matt sucks air into his lungs, squirming. The temperature in the room has to have risen ten degrees in the past minute, his addled brain unable to focus except on the dampness of Foggy’s sweating palms when he rolls one over the front of his jeans and Matt’s mouth falls open soundlessly. He feverishly thinks that it must be the heat that’s got him so achingly hard, but Foggy cups his whole hand around him and squeezes and Matt almost bites his own tongue.

He’s hazily aware that Foggy is murmuring his name as he shuffles around, working the button and fly of his pants open. Foggy curls his fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tugs gently, prompting Matt to shift his hips upward accommodatingly so that Foggy can slide them off slowly. He hears Foggy open his mouth with a shuddering sigh, his tongue darting over his kiss-swollen lips and he can just fucking smell the sharp scent of his arousal as Matt’s jeans and boxers are pulled down his thighs. Matt lets out a sob of relief as he feels his cock pull free, and Foggy answers with a quiet whimper of his own.

“Jesus, Matt.” Foggy says hoarsely. 

Matt opens his mouth to form an answer but all he can manage is a soft keen when Foggy’s hand strokes up the inside of his thigh, warmer now than ever on his exposed skin. His cock twitches at the contact and Foggy exhales at length before running both hands up the insides of his legs, pushing them apart gently. His thumbs press into his hips, tracing burning lines just to either side of his dick. Matt writhes in response, using what’s left of his voice on a garbled plea.

He hears Foggy shift in response, stretching himself out onto his stomach in front of Matt, both hands still gripping on his hips. Matt shudders as Foggy’s breath ghosts over his thigh, trailing upwards and then presses his mouth gingerly against the base of his dick. Matt barely has time to adjust before Foggy takes him into his mouth, sinking down slowly. His mouth is wet and agonizingly hot, slipping downwards halfway and then pulling backwards twice as fast, his tongue striping its way up as he releases him.

Matt moans, suddenly dizzy and Foggy dips back down again. He swallows, fucking swallows and his jaw opens wider and he’s got the entire length of Matt’s dick in his mouth and how the fuck did he even _do_ that? Matt brings his hands up, threading them through Foggy’s sweat-damp hair and holds onto him, gently at first while Foggy picks up a rhythm.

In minutes he’s got one hand still fisted into Foggy’s hair, the other braced against the back of the bed for dear life while Foggy sucks his dick like he’s been born to do it. Sweat gathers on the backs of his knees, beading down the backs of his thighs when his hips twitch every time Foggy catches the tip just so. Finally Foggy sinks down on him and makes a noise deep in his throat that makes his vocal chords vibrate and when he pulls off, sucking all the way Matt comes on his face, breathless, overheated and seeing stars.

When he comes back to his senses Foggy is sitting back, wiping his face off and he hears a final wet noise and yeah, his roommate is definitely licking his cum off his fingers.

“Holy shit, Foggy.” Matt mumbles and pushes himself up off of the floor. Foggy laughs hoarsely.

“Everything you’ve ever dreamed of, Murdock?” He asks and Matt can hear the uptick in his heartbeat that sounds like uncertainty.

Matt pushes himself up the rest of the way, leaning into Foggy and pushing him down gently with one hand, trailing the other down his chest and kissing him slowly all the way.

“And more than that, even…” He murmurs lowly against Foggy’s collarbone.


End file.
